


Heartbeats and Radio Waves

by Kaiisan



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Radio, Aromantic Asexual Pidge | Katie Holt, Background Relationships, Bisexual Allura (Voltron), Bisexual Lance (Voltron), College AU, Cutesy, Eventual Romance, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gay Keith (Voltron), Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Insecure Lance (Voltron), Insomniac Keith, Insomniac Lance, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, M/M, Nonbinary Pidge | Katie Holt, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Radio Host AU, Romantic Fluff, Short & Sweet, Slow Romance, Slow To Update, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:22:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27726112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaiisan/pseuds/Kaiisan
Summary: Lance runs the night shift of a shitty college radio station and his number one - and seemingly only - listener is a guy named red23.
Relationships: Adam/Matt Holt/Shiro, Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Allura/Romelle (Voltron), Hunk/Shay (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 46





	1. Chapter 1

_".. And that was certainly a uh, choice advert about toothpaste."_

Lance rolls his eyes as the contractually obligated adverts come to an end. He glances at the clock for a fifth time in an hour - 2:17a.m. His shift doesn't end until five, and he stifles a yawn. He's sat in a rolly chair that's decently comfortable, set up at a desk full of radio equipment and a laptop with Garrison Tech's website on the screen, the college radio station interactive page open in case there were any active listeners wanting song requests. Not that he thought anyone sane would be awake during his shift hours, but occasionally some students pulling all-nighters show up and chat for a few minutes, which is nice. 

_"Now then, my lovely guys, gals, and otherworldly pals of the Gee-Tee college campus,"_ Lance hums, setting up the next song in the predetermined playlist he makes each night, since he rarely got requests, _"I don't know about you guys out there, but I think this time of night is all about the self reflection, especially with first semester exams coming up in the next couple of weeks."_ he chuckles, quietly wincing at all the studying he still hasn't done himself. 

With a slide of his fingers, the intro to the song starts to play, and Lance hums along to himself. _"Here it is folks, some late night tunes to overthink to. Lord knows we all do enough of that, right? Can I Call You Tonight? By, Dayglow."_

He switches his microphone off and let's the song take over completely. He checks the time again - five minutes, really? - and decides to browse through the radio station's page to see if anyone was active. To his surprise, someone was. 

> **[02:21]red23: can you tell me the name of this song again**

He rubs at his eyes, surprised anyone was actually listening. He sits up a bit to type better. 

> **_[02:22]GTRadio_Sharpshooter: sure dude! It's Can I Call You Tonight, by Dayglow :)_ **
> 
> **[02:25]red23: thanks**

Well, that was that, huh. He sighs a little and gets ready to slide into the next song. He'll credit it afterwards; it's just nice to have songs play back-to-back without interruption sometimes. He makes the fade perfect, the tune slows, goes quiet, and he let's the radio have a moment of silence before the next song starts up flawlessly.   
If anyone had told Lance that his part time job would be dj-ing the 11-5 night shift for his college radio station during his second year, he'd have laughed in their face and told them he valued his skincare too much to ever stoop so low. And now look at him. 

_"That was 'Sail Away' by Surfaces,"_ Lance hums as the song ends. He's still tapping the beat with his foot. _"I'd take that guy up on his offer, honestly. I could do with a break; I'm sure all of us students do, huh? Plus, it's been so long since I've been to the sea…"_ he trails off with a humourless chuckle. Movement on the laptop screen catches his attention and he rolls the chair closer to it. 

> **[02:37]red23: you taking requests?**

_"Oh, it appears that I've got an active listener after all. Hi, 'red twenty three', any reason why you're awake at this hour? Or do you just really like listening to me talk~"_ Lance jokes lightly; he's bored, okay? And a little lonely.   
  


> **[02:38]red23: ha ha. Can I get a song or not**

_"Damn Red, I get the feeling you're not much of a pillow talker huh?"_ Another chuckle and he sees the chat log lag and whir as someone starts to type again, presumably this red person. _"Relax, red-two-three, I'm messing with ya. It gets kinda lonely at this time of night, ya feel me? Hit me with your request, and I'll see what I can do."_ he doesn't have to wait long for a reply. 

> **[02:40]red23:... Do you have survivin' by Bastille?**

_"Survivin' by Bastille? I sure do, friend."_ He clicks through the files on his system to find the required audio, pleased to have something to actually do for once. _"That's a pretty good pick, red. Bastille is a popular choice and he's one of my favourites. I'd give anything to see him play live. Plus, this song is pretty cheerful in itself. Some pretty reassuring lyrics in there."_

As the song picks up, he sings along with it, soft and under his breath as he adjusts settings and keeps an eye on the chat, to see if red says thanks or anything else. To his disappointment, nothing new pops up and the song eventually comes to an end. 

_"... That was 'Survivin' by Bastille, requested by red23. I hope you enjoyed it, buddy. Anyway, the time is now two forty-five, which means unfortunately I gotta run another ad or two, but worry not! We'll be back after with some tunes from some Jon Bellion, Shawn Mendes, and our usual, pre-recorded 3am special spooky story segment, narrated by our infamous mystery host, one RoverRover. Stay tuned."_

He flicks his mic off again, pressing a combination of buttons and switches to transition into the shortlist of selected adverts. At least it's nearly over now, he thinks, sipping his bottled water and yawning. Refreshing the page on his laptop, there's still no new messages, not even a thanks from red. He huffs. He knows he can't be fussy about the kinds of late night listeners he gets tuning in, but he wished they'd be a little friendlier or more interactive sometimes. 

  
  
  


* * *

Lance is lucky to have mostly evening classes this year; working overnight was killing his schedule. Waking up a little after midday most days of the week meant his social life took a few hits, but at least he could see a few friends before his classes started.

“Lance, over here!” A familiar voice calls for him as he takes his tray of food through the cafeteria and he makes his way over to his friends.

“Hunk, Pidge, I’m so glad to see you both!” He sighs dramatically as he slides into the free seat. “I’m pretty sure this job is gonna kill me.” 

Pidge snorts. They continue to shove food in their mouth, used to his antics.

“You okay bro?” Hunk’s worried tune makes him smile. “I know you said the pay is good and all, but you always talk about how routine and sleep is good for you..”

“And I stand by that! The job is good, and Pidge’s spooky story bit definitely helped me through these last few shifts.” He lifts a fist and bumps the younger student’s already expectant one.

“You’re welcome.” 

“I dunno.. I didn’t think I’d last this long, to be honest. But it’s nice to chill with some music, talk about whatever, and the studio space is great to get work done with no distractions.”

He doesn’t talk about how lonely it gets, though. How, besides the music in his headphones, the studio is depressingly silent and still. He doesn’t mention how sad songs make him want to cry more easily when he’s alone in the studio, and how romantic songs make his heart ache. He doesn’t add his embarrassing singalongs to songs he chooses to broadcast that just hit right in the moment. He may be a music production major, but doesn’t mean he will ever admit to singing. Harmonise, sure, that’s part of his coursework, but… he can’t really sing. Not professionally.

“Speaking of which, did you study for that quiz you’ve got later today?” Pidge pushes their glasses up their nose. “I recall you mentioning having one this week.”

Lance slams his head into the table. _“Crap.”_

“That’s a no, huh?”

“Shuddup.” He rubs his nose to remove some of the sting. “I’ll just head to class early and see what I can get done before class starts.”

“How much time do you have?” Hunk asks him curiously. “Pidge and I have a Robotics thing at four if you want any help before then.”

Lance taps the screen of his phone with his pinkie as he shovels his sandwich into his mouth in big bites. The time reads a little after one-thirty. “S’alright Hunk, I’ve got class at two, anyway. I need to get going. Thanks though, I’ll be fine.”

Hunk gives him a slightly worried smile, but waves him off nonetheless. Food gone, Lance dumps his tray and focuses on navigating the busy hallways to get to the music department. It’s a huge building, as many are in Garrison Tech, and the department is split over several floors and halls, rooms for every class of instrument, recording studios and even a couple performance halls. He heads up a flight of stairs, where the relatively normal sized classrooms were, and let himself into the one he knew his class would be. The professor tends to leave the doors open for his students, which is nice.

Sliding into a random seat at the back, he figures he has a few minutes before others start showing up, so he pops his headphones in and scrolls through his music library, putting a few songs together for his next shift.  
 _“Every night, every day, ten times out of nine I’m a hand grenade..”_ he sings along under his breath, adding the song to his list. Vaguely he sees people entering the room around him so he shuts up quickly and takes his headphones out. Music theory class, start. After this, he has a free period until his music history class and that dreaded quiz, which was at six, so he had a couple hours to study, hopefully. Then a quick dinner break, and then at eight he has a recording studio reserved to record some stuff for his practical work and help out the performance majors with their compositions. Performance majors often collaborated their songs with music production majors, and working together often gave both parties extra credit, which Lance doesn’t mind one bit. In fact he’s fairly sure he’s leading in extra credit for that reason. Any chance to get in the recording studio, even if it’s on the other side of the screen to the one he’d rather be on. 

_No point reminiscing, McClain,_ he sighs to himself as the professor chatters continuously in front of him, and he tries to focus. _You already auditioned and failed._

* * *

The quiz went as badly as he’d expected, and he took that mood with him into the studio, which he hates doing. It made the music sound bad. And _yes,_ that is most definitely a thing that exists, because nothing he worked on sounded right, different tracks were giving off the wrong vibes, and even the collaborations he’s currently working on weren’t quite perfect yet. By the time ten o’clock rolled around and his slot was all used up, Lance had only finished one track, which he emailed off to the performance student he’d been helping, Nyma. 

Packing up his stuff, he huffed at the insistent knocking at the door. Who the hell takes the ten pm slot, anyway? It’s only for an hour, compared to the other two-hour slots available during the day, since the recording studios and the majority of the music building shuts to students at eleven.   
There’s another bang on the door. “Alright, alright, Jesus!” He swings the door open, papers and laptop in one arm since he couldn’t fit them into his bag. Some dude stood _directly_ in front of him, hand raised to pound the door again. All he caught a glimpse of was dark hair under a red beanie before the guy shoved past him and effectively kicked him out of the studio.   
“If you’re that worried about wasting recording time, pick a better time slot!” He yells at the shut door, knowing full well it’s too soundproof for the other student to hear him. Rubbing the arm that got shoved, Lance sighs and crouches in the hall so he could put away his things properly. 

He makes a quick stop at the vending machines at the end of the hall, grabbing a bottle of water and some chips to ward off the night-time hunger. The entire building is dimly lit at this hour. Halls dark and dimly lit by emergency exit signs as he climbs the stairs to the top floor. The top floor was a special accommodation; not even a full floor like the three below it. Just three small rooms: a storage room, a live recording room and the studio room itself where the magic happens.   
He peaks through the window of the studio room, seeing the red ‘On Air’ sign lit up red as the current host, Allura, finishes up her segment. She spots him in the window and waves him in, holding a finger up to her lips as she talks to let him know to be quiet. 

_“—and finally, the last question I’ve got for tonight’s Llura’s love talk hour, sent in by one StrawberryCheesecakeGirl - I love that name, by the way.”_ She smiles, genuine and soft, and Lance feels his troubles from the day shed from him as he settles on the ratty couch in the corner of the room. Allura, a student in her fourth and final year, genuinely loved her job here at the radio station, despite only working eight-to-eleven four nights a week. She enjoyed the fact that students anonymously wrote in to the station to ask her for dating advice - even if it was because she was a gossip at heart. When they ran into each other outside of the radio station, they often exchanged stories of what happens on their shift, though Lance’s stories are often fewer and far between, and he enjoyed the friendship he’d built up with her over these past few weeks. 

He watches her lean into the laptop screen to read the question better. _“[There’s a guy I like, but I’m just so shy! He’s so smart and funny, and a really good cook, he gave me cookies for my birthday so I think he might like me too. But I just don’t know! What should I do to see if it’s mutual?] Wow, that sounds like a really sweet guy, no pun intended.”_ Allura laughs, resting her cheek in her hand and pretending to swoon, making Lance choke on a chuckle himself. _“Well, StrawberryCheesecakeGirl, in all honesty I’ve never seen a guy put in that much effort when he_ doesn’t _like a girl, so I think you’re in luck. When I first started dating my girlfriend, I got her her favourite kind of hot chocolate one morning before class, even though she only told me once. When she asked me how I knew, I told her I always pay attention to details when it’s about someone I like.”_

She trails off there with a soft, pleased hum as she clearly recalls the memory in her mind, Lance thinks. He knew from the beginning that Allura was dating a fellow fourth year student, some girl called Romelle. She’s stopped by before to pick Allura up after her shift, and seeing them together made Lance all warm and twisted inside, watching them kiss each other hello and walk off hand in hand. Allura had introduced them briefly before, and even told him about being bi, which was both surprising and not at the same time. He’d told her he was bi too, and that had sealed their friendship solidly.   
_"..Ahem, well the moral of the story there is - try giving him a gift you put a lot of thought into, and he’s sure to love it. Even if it’s not perfect, people can tell when something is made with love.”_ She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear as she adjusts some switches. _“And with that, I’m afraid that’s it from me today. Coming up next, The Sharpshooter takes over the night watch with some tunes and late night talks. Until then, enjoy this song: Dance With Me Tonight, by Olly Mars!”_

Another flick of a switch, and she pulls the headphones off with a sigh and shake of her head, hair messily shaking loose from the fragile bun that was holding them in place. 

“Seriously, Lance, I don’t know how you do this for six hours a night. I can barely do three, and my voice starts to hurt after the first hour.”

“Everyone knows I can talk for hours, ‘Llura. It’s getting me to stop, that's the issue.” He winks, and she laughs tiredly. “You look tired, exams getting to ya?”

“The fourth year exams are no joke, Lance, I’m seriously considering running away and becoming a drug dealer instead.”

“You’d be the poshest dealer in Vegas. _Oi, mate, fancy a spot of heroin to go with your vodka tonight?”_ He sticks his nose up in the air as he mimics Allura’s British accent terribly. She struggles not to giggle as he continues, “ _not one for heroin? Blimey, we got ourselves a tough biscuit.”_

“Okay, okay, enough.” Allura gets up, gathering her bag and phone. “The song is nearly over and you gotta set up your stuff. And Romelle is waiting for me outside.”

“Oooh, date night?”

“I wish. Study night.” Allura pouts, then leans in to kiss his cheek as he gives her a quick hug. “See you tomorrow, Lance.”

“Bye, ‘Llura.”

Setting up is easy, logging out of Allura’s radio login and switching to his own. Something about user anonymity when it comes to taking requests and advice segments. Either way, Lance doesn’t necessarily want to read the messages Allura gets about love tips and he doesn't want her reading the weird ones he gets at 4am on occasion. 

Surprisingly there’s a message waiting for him already, but it’s just from Pidge, under their username **RoverRover**. 

> **[22:58]RoverRover: don’t forget that there’s no spooky story tonight bby. I’m still recovering from that cold and I couldn’t pre-record anything!**
> 
> **_[23:00]GTRadio_Sharpshooter: damn, I forgot. Guess I’m gonna wing it_ **
> 
> **[23:00]RoverRover: good luck <3 **

_“....Well hello, everyone.”_ Lance starts off smoothly as the song finishes, a little bit late on the uptake, but it’s not like many people are listening, anyway. The numbers have already dropped from 300 online down to 129, which stung a little, but at least he’ll have a few people around until later in the night. _“It’s your favourite bachelor of the darkness, your knight in soothing tenor vocals. It’s the Sharpshooter, at your service.”_ He plugs in his phone, both to charge it and connect the playlist he’d made earlier. _“We’re gonna kick off tonight with something that matches that lovely song that Miss Allura left us with, hmm? Let’s go with, Dancing in the Moonlight, by Toploader. Enjoy, folks.”_


	2. Chapter 2

_ "-- and decides to browse through my underwear drawer like this isn't the weirdest first date ever." _ Lance drawls tiredly, feet up on the desk in front of him as he scribbles random lyrics in a notebook. Allura had suggested theming his rambles to different topics each night, but he can never focus for very long. Plus, there usually weren't any listeners after Pidge's short story at three. He just talks about whatever comes to mind at this point. 

_ "So I ask this chick what she's doing, and no kidding she pulls out a pair of tighty-whiteys I don't even remember owning and accuses me of cheating on her, because she insisted they were girl briefs and no way a 'real man' could wear underwear so tight. Honestly, not sure if I'm more insulted by the real man comment or the cheating accusations." _

He goes quiet after a moment, sighing and tapping his pen against the paper on his lap. This wasn't the first original song that he felt stuck on, though lately it's been happening more and more. Probably since he failed another audition. Most likely because Nyma 'forgot' to credit him on the audio file  _ again _ and he's had to chase up the professor for the credit, which he needs. Performance majors can be arrogant Asses, sometimes. Glancing up, he startles as he realises that he's been quiet for a long time and he even has messages. 

> **[04:34]red23: who TF brings someone back on the first date**
> 
> **[04:39]red23: also girls are freaky**
> 
> **[04:47]red23: u muted?**

Blinking in surprise, Lance quickly clears his throat, flicking through the playlist on screen for something he hasn't played yet.  _ "Woops, guess I trailed off for a bit. Thanks for checking on me, red. And you're right, girls can be freaky. Maybe that's just what I like, though." _ he laughs fakely, in his radio persona way, then adds quietly,  _ "though maybe they're the only ones who like me."  _

Surprisingly enough, there's a response in the chat almost immediately. 

> **[04:50]red23: maybe you're just too nice to the wrong people**

_ "Hey, what's that supposed to mean? There's nothing wrong with being nice to people. That's called being a decent human person."  _

> **[04:50]red23:... And look where that gets you**

_ "Wow, red. You're really hurting my feelings here. Not only are you not a pillow talker but you're sure no sweet talker either, huh?"  _

> **[04:51]red23: fuck off. I'm nice to people I care about. That has to be earned first**
> 
> **[04:51]red23: quality over quantity as my brother says**

_ " Quality over quantity," _ Lance hums, rubbing his face. He glances at his notebook in his lap, full of half-hearted, yet passionate lyrics he used to think were going to work. Things he wrote in the moment after a good first date, or kiss, or hell even a movie with his friends. Lance has always worn his feelings out in the open, and it has a lot of ups and downs that comes with the territory. He tries to count how many of the people he called a friend would say the same about him. 

_ ".. I wonder which category people would put me in? Whatever man, I really didn't feel like questioning my existence in my friend's lives tonight. Ya boy hates himself enough." _

With a humourless chuckle, he transitions the scene into a song and shuts off his mic, throwing off his headphones none-too-carefully onto the equipment. Maybe he should actually pay attention to stories he rambles about on live radio, but with his shift ending soon he really doesn't care anymore. This red guy can kick rocks. 

Luckily the song he'd picked will last until the five o'clock adverts start, so whoever is taking over for him won't have any issues. He logs out without checking his messages and packs up, not bothering to wait for the changeover. 

He just wants to sleep and stop thinking. 

* * *

_  
“So I was thinking of learning how to play another instrument. I’ve already got the basics on pretty much every common instrument I can think of; guitar, piano, drums, bass, and a little bit of flute, but that’s because my mom made me when I was five.”  _ Lance laughs quietly, and he’s laying with his head in his arms on the desk. Three nights in a row is his usual work schedule, but he’s doing tonight as an extra shift for the other guy, who was on a date, apparently. At least someone was getting lucky.

> **[02:38]red23: that’s a lot of instruments**

He frowns at the laptop screen, not really in the mood to talk to actual people. Besides, this red person comes off kinda rude after a while and Lance isn’t sure his patience can handle it. He has another two and a half hours of his shift left, too. 

_ “It is indeed red. But I’ve always had a talent for picking up musical skills with enough practice. Music is my passion, after all.” _

> **[02:39]red23: are you any good?**

_ “Any good? Any GOOD? Jeez, I don’t know. Let me check with my wall of certificates and awards, shall we?” _ His confidence wavers a little and he sighs audibly into the mic.  _ “Sorry, that was dickish of me. I never feel good enough in other people’s eyes. Comes with being the youngest of five, I guess.” _

> **[02:43]red23: I can understand that**
> 
> **[02:43]red23: wanting to prove yourself**

_ “Oh yeah?” _ Lance hums almost disbelievingly, but he relaxes a little and rests his chin in his palm.  _ “You have overachieving siblings too, red-two-three?” _

> **[02:45]red23: … something like that.**
> 
> **[02:45]red23: I’m adopted**

_ “Oh…”  _ he feels a little bad about his previous opinion towards this guy, whoever red was. Adoption can be tough.  _ “My oldest sister adopted her daughter, Molly. I kinda get it. She’s a career woman, and adoption was the best way for her to continue her super professional work life and have a family, so I’m not envious of the expectations that kid's gonna have to live up to. It’s bad enough being the stupid little brother.” _

There’s no immediate reply, so Lance quietly transitions into a soft, acoustic cover of  _ River Flows in You,  _ by Yiruma. He’s not sure he could keep talking about being a failure, jokingly or not, anyway. He takes out a textbook from his bag; mandatory mathematics classes suck. His exam is in a week and he still didn’t really study the material, so he set up the playlist to play for a while, automatically announcing and playing each song. Pidge doesn’t make Spooky Story Time segments for the other night shift guy so he’s set to leave the playlist running for at least an hour, which is about as long as he can concentrate on maths, anyway.

  
He’s almost done with the chapter by four in the morning, and by then he finally glances up at the station laptop. He realises he’s missed messages.

> **[02:56]red23: you don’t seem stupid to me**
> 
> **[02:56]red23: some people never learn to play an instrument and you know how to play four**
> 
> **[02:57]red23: five if you count the flute (I don’t blame you if you don’t though)**
> 
> **[02:59]red23: and all of those instruments take hours and hours of studying and practicing, so to be good at them you clearly out in a lot of effort**
> 
> **[03:00]red23: put***
> 
> **[03:02]red23: so um**
> 
> **[03:03]red23: idk you seem pretty skilled in my opinion**

The rush of warmth to his cheeks is startling and surprisingly welcoming. Red is a stranger, sure, but their words were… kind, in their own way. Being recognised for his hard work had goosebumps blossoming across his skin unabashedly, and he almost feels bad for not having seen those messages earlier. Red could have fallen asleep by now, and Lance had left them on read. Oops. Hesitantly, he pops the chat open and replies.

> **[04:12]GTRadio_Sharpshooter: oh**
> 
> **[04:12]GTRadio_Sharpshooter: sorry I didn’t see these messages earlier, I ended up doing some studying**
> 
> **[04:13]GTRadio_Sharpshooter: thank you**
> 
> **[04:13]GTRadio_Sharpshooter: that uh**
> 
> **[04:13]GTRadio_Sharpshooter: means a lot tbh**

He doesn’t expect a reply, so he runs a few ads and closes out tabs he no longer needs open anymore. He can’t stand math any longer either, so he chucks his textbooks and notepads into his bag again too. He hears a faint ping and looks up.

> **[04:15]red23: ur welcome**

Lance smiles.

* * *

Finally Friday, Lance joins his fellow students in college tradition: he goes to a party. 

He’s dead on his feet, sure, but he wasn’t about to let that affect what little social life he can get. The college radio only plays during the weekdays, so having weekends free were his reprise from obligatory music choices to something more to his tastes. 

The loud, heavy thumping of club music made the walls of the dorms shake around him, heaving with the force of bass and jumping feet pounding the floor. He’s glad that his dorm was closer to campus and unsuitable for these kinds of parties; he’s not sure he’d ever be able to sleep ever again if this kinda party happened every week. 

Someone hands him a red solo cup, which he takes with a nod and grin, before sniffing at the strange concoction. Rum and some kind of mixer, he thinks, so he takes a swig. It’s strong. VERY strong. It’s enough to make his eyes water and his throat sting, so he coughs a little and takes a much smaller second sip to wash it down. It doesn’t really work, but who cares about semantics. Wandering down the halls, every dorm room was propped wide open to accommodate the crowds of teenagers and young adults. Speakers stood in corners, tripping the lightweight drunks in their haste to dance and jump around without a care. At the end of the hall was the shared dorm space that was a kitchen and living room, and Lance can hear live instruments being played amongst the cheering and shouting of the people around him.

_ There’s a band playing, _ he realises, seeing three heads slightly higher than the crowd, most likely by standing on some furniture. Two of the guys have guitars, and the third has a bass. He recognises him as another music production student, though the other two are fighting over the singular microphone stand and were clearly, in his opinion, performance majors.

Seeming to finally agree on a song to play, the trio start up and the music washes over him pleasantly. They’re not bad, though it’s clear that the singers don’t get along, or are even trying to match each other’s tones. The brunette dude, who Lance thinks might be called James, he’s sure he’s seen him before, finally gives up as the other guy’s more powerful vocal range takes over. It’s better suited to this kind of music, anyway. Lance studies him dizzily; the rum mix doing wonders for his stressed out body and allowing him to move with the flow of the crowd.

_ Dark, long hair. A girl? No, voice too deep. Long haired guy, nice. Red beanie, where have I seen that before? Dunno. Pale skin, long legs, very skinny jeans.. oh! He just did a trick on his guitar, that’s cool. Is he… are those fingerless gloves? Weirdo. _

Someone bumps into him, clapping him on the shoulder hard and spinning him around, and for a moment he’s terrified until he recognises the face in front of him.

“Matt!” He cheers and hugs him, carefully avoiding spilling his drink. 

“Lancey-Lance!” Matt hugs him back.

“Does Pidge know you’re here?” He looks around. He assumes Hunk and Pidge would be somewhere nearby; they all arrived together anyway. They never stay as long as he does, though. Something about headaches and other plans. 

“Yeah, I saw them on my way in. It’s good to see  _ you _ though, my party pal.” Matt wiggles his eyebrows, making Lance laugh. Matt sure does know how to bring out a wilder side to him. “Let me go say hi to a few more people and then we’ll go kill it on the dance floor.”

“Sure man, you know where to find me.” 

Matt ruffles his hair like the big brother he is, making Lance squawk and dip away. He watches the older man wander over to the guys who were playing music, high-fiving the bassist and surprisingly, hugging the red beanie guy too, once he’d stopped singing. Then again, Matt was the kinda guy to know everyone, so he isn’t too surprised. The music picks up again as he chugs down more of his drink, enjoying the burn and the way his limbs feel more sluggish with every mouthful. The brain fog feels good. Swaying along with the people around him, he moulds himself into the environment, singing along with the club music that picks up in volume and drowns him in rhythm and bass. Matt joins him a while later, and their playful dancing and laughing keeps Lance on a high that lasts through the night. 

* * *

  
  
  


**Garrison Tech Social Blog**

_ Sort: *Newest Post First* _

**Matt Holt (Alumni)** posted to the blog page. [05:38]

_ [A set of five, slightly blurry photos of varying drunkenness, including one of him laying shirtless on the kitchen bartop with a couple of guys spraying whipped cream into his mouth as he gives the camera a thumbs up.] _

**_2,038 likes - 36 comments - 4 people tagged_ **

> **Top Comment:**
> 
> **_> >RoverRover: _ ** my brother, everyone **_(300 likes)_ **
> 
> **_> >>Matt Holt (Alumni): _ ** what can I say, I’m a legend around here <3 **_(285 likes)_ **

  
  


**GTRadio_Sharpshooter** posted to the blog page. [00:12]

_ [a single, crisp photo of Matt Holt, posing with a drink and a fingergun, winking at the camera. Caption:  _ **_Look what the cats dragged in! GeeTee’s infamous Matt “The Prank Master” Holt!_ ** _ ] _

**_1,109 likes - 103 comments - 1 person tagged_ **

> **Top Comment:**
> 
> **_> >RoverRover: _ ** that title won’t stay yours forever >:3  **_(597 likes)_ **

**_———————Yesterday——————_ **

**GTStudentUnion** posted to the blog page. [20:02]

_ Happy FEEL GOOD FRIDAY, everyone! You know what time it is. PARTY TIME. Dorm block C, Floor 2 is hosting tonight’s rager! Now we all know the rules: no drugs, no violence, no breaking anything! Drink safely, drink smartly, use protection if you’re gonna get your groove on! Garrison Tech prides itself on the intelligence of their students so let’s show everyone how these NERDS can party! -signed, Student Union President Kinkade _

**_508 likes - 4 comments_ **

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, if you got this far, thank you. Writing still feels weird and I hope to get back into it more enthusiastically, but it’s good to be back.
> 
> Please leave a comment if you enjoy this, even if it’s just a :)

**Author's Note:**

> I rise again after years of silence. I don't know how likely this will last, but please stick with me. I plan on finishing my other fics, I promise, but where I left them had heavy topics I didn't really want to be my introduction back into writing. I just want something that will be sweet and fluffy and only lightly dusted with angst and self loathing from Lance's POV. 
> 
> I hope you like it <3 comments would make me happy.


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